Euthanasia
by Treol
Summary: “… Those are my losses. But I will win in the end.” L didn’t know how much more he would surrender to fulfill his words. Not even the world’s three greatest detectives could fathom the depths of his sacrifices.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Does anyone really think I own Death Note

Disclaimer: Does anyone really think I own Death Note?

Read and review please!

Hell, just plain reviewing will be fine too…

--

Darkness.

It is not something you want to open your eyes and see. It can mean something terrible has happened or occasionally, that you have confused yourself over your eyelid's position. For L Lawliet, the latter option was nothing short of laughable. For someone to be confused about whether or not his eyes are opened or closed while he can clearly string together arguably intellectual thoughts is pathetic. One would have to be blind – or relatively stupid – to seriously ask himself such a question. As the world's three greatest detectives (with no added schizophrenia), the swarthy-haired male sincerely doubted such conditions. So, how was it, that he could he be doubting his eye lids' arrangement and still not know?

'The bells, they're no longer… No, they are there, just muffled, but that's… It's not rain, though. No, the storm would never be able to obscure that sound, not even dim it. It's like… Nothing.' Church bells – funeral bells. Bells are not meant to signal the death of a loved one. Such a macabre tribute was hard to eclipse, even with the help of time's passing. Yet their musical quality was somehow strange. The melodic dinging of heavy copper was replaced by another rhythm, one of a drum, the predictable thump of a base… But the beeps he heard were not what he remembered.

'Funeral bells mean rain, but that doesn't explain the muted sound. Minds cannot be stifled from their owner, even one as fucking brilliant as mine.' Even the bitterness that momentarily tugged at him was distant – an angry feeling with power, force, _potential_ – nothing more than a whisper in the wind. It was as if someone else was experiencing the emotion. Rain, the innocent phenomenon of precipitation, always managed to stir more than a little bitterness. Whatever emotion the rain normally forced to grace him was always tinged with remorse, peppered with guilt, forming a patented concoction that only it could evoke. This time, there was only a black abyss to wallow in, but that was arguably an improvement from self-pity.

The tenebrosity was silence, the sinful allure of peace – a serenity that can never be even caressed by one who has a million organized yet random thoughts zipping through his head at a mile a second, but there it was, calling to him. How simple it would be to just close his eyes again. 'But what is the point if I can't see anything in the first place?'

The darkness continued to summon him, his mind's eye momentarily toying with shadowy tendrils dancing over his lithe form, pulling him close into a lover's embrace. Bless the sweet darkness. May he return to its suffocating grasp to strangle the life out of his already withered mind. 'A little dramatic, aren't I?'

Ryuzaki…

Like a murmur, so faint, so low it could have simply been imagined – easily distorted by a dropping pin, completely warped by a passing breeze. 'Hello darkness my old friend… You've come to talk with me again?'

If he giggled and pointed, he probably would find everything all the more interesting. What was better than hearing voices in the dark? Oh yes, replying to them.

Ryuzaki...

The tone was louder this time, but then again, it could not have possibly gotten any lower. 'Because a vision… Softly creeping… Has left its… Screams! While I was sleeping… Oh hello, darkness.'

Ryuzaki.

More defined now, more noticeable, something that could actually be called a voice. It appeared it was getting somewhere. 'Does darkness not like my singing? Here I thought we were old friends.'

Did it matter if no one could see him smiling, and he thought he was, just as he thought his eyes were open when he saw nothing but blackness? If he really had a 'friend' watching over him, hopefully they wouldn't point out the obvious answer.

Ryuzaki.

Annoyance. Irascibility. L could almost see the scowl on the speaker's face, the lines on his forehead as he frowned. Almost. Darkness didn't have a face. Did it even have a gender? Was that one of those rhetorical questions? Oh look, there was another one. 'So much for an old friend – can't even get my proper name. Oh how you wound me darkness, I trusted you.'

And of course, that sugar-deprived, half-insane pout was wasted on his friend, his only real friend. Wasn't that funny? Watari didn't count because Watari was –

Ryuzaki…!

Labored breathing. An attractively pulsating vein. Someone was mad. 'Is darkness angry? But darkness doesn't know who he calls so vehemently. Does he know anything about the one he shields? Darkness… You betray me. Oh well, I'm too far for even you to hurt me… My old friend.'

Ryuzaki!!

The world exploded.


	2. Chapter 2

Color was everywhere, sickening iridescence in a kaleidoscope of shades, so bright he thought they were white

Color was everywhere, sickening iridescence in a kaleidoscope of shades, so bright he thought they were white. All of it was blinding the man, who now, more than ever before, longed for the solace of his 'old friend' as opposed to the merciless light. Light: an illuminating agent or source, as the sun, a lamp, a beacon, etc; electromagnetic radiation of a wavelength that is visible to the human eye (about 400–700 nm), composed mainly of photons; the entire electromagnetic spectrum. Light Yagami: Kira.

Now closing his eyes wouldn't spare himself of the swirling vortex, the taunting specters of shade and tone, each its own nuclear bomb, and guess who was always stuck at ground zero. What could have only been a few seconds (maybe even milliseconds) passed as quickly as eternity. Outside the fireworks, a new universe could have formed as the whirlpool of color continued to surge – beautifully hypnotic. The detective never stopped screaming.

As quickly as it had come, the sensation halted, leaving each of its tantalizing dyes frozen in place – only to be replaced by another sense-wracking sensation. A scream. "RYUZAKI!"

Damn eardrums would not stop vibrating. He didn't realize the colors were no longer amorphous.

The white glare of light had really been a series of deflected electrons on a fluorescent screen, and it more importantly, they formed words. The last sentence he had been in the midst of typing had been 'Assuming that the culprit – formally established and presupposed as the one under the alias Kira – still manages to achieve his goal, may the following precautions for the third trial be participated upon.' ('What is this… the letter of request to the National Police Agency?') A regular person would have counted three seconds before a flicker of realized connection donned on the detective's features. L's normally apparently impulsive brain wondered whether its owner was taking narcotics with how slow the idea came. One alabaster-toned hand rested its slim digits on a worn keyboard (shift, A, E, T, thumb in the air), the letters worn away by frequent use. The other lay limply mere centimeters from a pyramid of brown and white sugar cubes, in an altering arrangement of colors, and a cup of warm tea. Apparently the dark-eyed male was willing to sacrifice his six-story creation for his stomach. And to his right was the ever eloquent "Yagami Light."

With inadvertently listless movements, the slouched figure turned his head, face predictably blank, despite his eyes being wide enough for pennies to replace his unseen irises. "Rai… To… Kun."

First the English pronunciation with just a hint of a British accent, then the particularly dawdled Japanese articulation – evidently one or both managed to startle the Kira suspect, who merely blinked in response. It was a rather unexpected reaction seeing as he had been so loud moments earlier. The faint trace of vermillion that tainted his cheeks ('Why… That expression suits Matsuda better') faded slightly as the younger male attempted to redirect the other genius's attention by speaking. He didn't need to, though. There was nothing else for the detective to focus on. Without looking behind him, L somehow knew they were the only two in his room at the Narita View Hotel, the seventh hotel he occupied in the city… Correct? For some reason, the onyx-haired male did not want to think that it had been his deductive skill that allowed him to make such an assumption. "Y-yes, Ryuzaki, I… apologize. You were typing, and then you stopped. I thought nothing of it first, then you ceased to respond to you name. You simply stared like -"

'You lie, Yagami-kun. Your acting is impeccable as always, as any Kira's should undoubtedly be, but this time, I know you lie. Another flawless performance but now I know; I am certain.'

"… Didn't respond at all…"

Charcoal eyes darted to the hand that was slowly retreating, something that was not much more than a foot away from him. Apparently, Light had been so worried that it seemed he was willing to invade the older detective's personal space. Yet L was more interested by the manacle that dangled around the brunette's slender wrist, which was connected to him as well, via the right wrist and was partially concealed by the sleeve of a baggy white shirt. 'It's so light…' "That won't be a problem, Light-kun, thank you."

"I suppose even the greatest of minds space out sometimes, eh, Ryuzaki?"

"I suppose."

Hesitation. "Perhaps you will want to rest?"

"No, I am fine." The investigator did not dip one but the entire sugar cube structure into the porcelain cup. The point of saturation came much too quickly, but L continued to stir the beverage nonetheless, still gazing transfixed at his handcuff. "Thank you for your concern."

"Ryuza-"

"Thank you, Light-kun." The finality in his tone was enough. L didn't need to look at his suspect to know the brunette had abandoned any hope of continuing the conversation. He could hear his junior taking his seat once more, their binds clanging ever so slightly, as he raised the teacup to his lips, only distantly curious as to why the normally perceptive teen was so insistent. Perhaps he should have turned, if only to see Light Yagami smile.

Steam blew into his face, but only his mouth complained of heat.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I still don't own Death Note

Disclaimer: I still don't own Death Note! Oh nos!

So this chapter's longer than the last two… THANK YOU ZOMG I HAVE READERS!  
- insert high pitched squee -  
Thank you Thien and Reichtwix!  
Anyways, I was wondering where I can get a Beta reader… Seeing as I completely fucked up interaction between Light and L, and need someone to fix that.  
Okei… Read and review please!

Or just review.  
Srsly.

--

"Ryuzaki, might I ask what you're typing?"

'What would you say Yagami-kun, if I told you I had no idea?' Yet willowy fingers continued to dance over the keyboard, the letter being lengthened as though the writer did not think there was no point to his task. To L, the distant – though sudden – realization that the precautions would be unnecessary was merely an inconsequential fact, and he never ceased, his speed only declining slightly as he picked up the sugar-sated drink off the table and brought it to his lips with one hand. The ceaseless flow of methodical notes and unquestionable orders filled the word processor, with the detective only making the necessary checks of his pedagogy to be certain he left no hints of his person for a curious profiler to unearth. It had happened once. Otherwise, the world would never have known that L was male. 'Would you think I was losing my mind? Would you even bother with pretending you thought otherwise?'

"A letter to the NPA, Light-kun," the older male replied, and an outsider would have thought the quirky man had surmounted his initial shock, probably snapping out of the reverie his suspect had hinted. "Concerning the information they release. We both know Kira requires a name and face to commit murder, so I have proposed an experiment to determine how much of the name is needed."

"So only inaccurate information will be released to the public?"

A strong sense of déjà vu engulfed L, and he had to stop to pick through his jean pockets for anything to rejuvenate his sucrose levels. Chocolate coated marshmallows, no matter how deformed, always suited everything, along with anything that contained sugar. "Not entirely, just for a handful of criminals, they will have a few letters in their names altered and… middle names."

The flat screen at their pseudo headquarters suddenly flashed before L's eyes, a list on one side consisting of three columns, the first two on the left baring the correct and incorrect names of various criminals, the final one consisting of every other transgressor known to police. Only a handful from the longest list had their names altered, and no one but L knew the proper spelling. 'Each member of the team had two or three improper names sent to them in the list as well over a duration of weeks...'

The detective was not just beginning to hate how his mind seemed to wander randomly. "Light-kun, where is everyone?"

"Huh? Ryuzaki… You haven't remembered…"

'Oh nos, oh my! They were all killed by Kira!' The incessant tapping of keys did not stop immediately, while the detective examined the speaker through his peripheral vision, pupils never leaving the computer monitor. The teenage genius appeared sincerely incredulous, and L's belief that nothing about Light Yagami was ever sincere momentarily faltered. He could practically read the boy's expression: confused impatience, wondering when the detective's internal CPU would turn on again, only partially laughing about how many bugs had infected the system.

Swiveling in his chair, arm wrapped around long legs and thumb finally comfortably rested between pale lips, he turned to face the handsome male, only to shake his head slowly. Still, no proper emotion was visible in his puzzling eyes. The exasperated sigh he heard only made the investigator bite on scabby skin, nearly breaking through the defenses his body had formed around his regularly besieged flesh. "You told them they could have a coffee break."

L was about to spurt out his tongue in laughter. Sure that would happen! He just conveniently expelled everyone from the room so he could be alone with a potential murderer. It was not that he was scared, but he was merely concerned about Soichiro Yagami, who was so obviously worried about his son's position as a charm bracelet. It was Soichiro who demanded his son's human rights be met, after all.

"Matsuda brought up a point regarding the need for… Fresh air… That was rather-"

"Stupid," L interrupted easily, a seemingly innocent smile tugging at his features, which was made cynical by the rest of his face. Immature did not necessarily mean child-like. The other male scoffed.

"I would have said ridiculous, but that works."

The sardonic grin on the younger teen's face jerked away the momentary lapse of negligence, making depthless eyes narrow ever so slightly while their owner's smirk congealed on his face. Light looked so naturally mocking it killed him. Averting his gaze, finding the ceiling once more interesting, the detective twisted his body to the side, setting his seat in motion, while his thumb curved into the corner of his lips. "Why, is there something you want from downstairs?"

Was there a shortage of tooth decay in the room? His monotone slightly muffled, as the chair began to rotate, he murmured, "Wanted to ask Watari for more -"

L momentarily wondered why he had chosen to disrupt himself. His expression stoic once more, the investigator curled his lips around his thumb, teeth grazing over the familiar territory as he turned his head to examine where the back of his swivel chair had bumped the table. The mouse pad was covered with drops of tea, his half-empty cup consumed further. "Cake."

Blinking slowly, he slipped off his seat, each motion languid so the man appeared to ooze into position before he adjusted his chair's station, which allowed him to spin without hindrance. L looked even more peculiar than normal. Usually, chairs without wheels were placed at a desirable distance from their occupant's workplace before the detective started. He would not conceive starting a task otherwise. Only one as perceptive as Light would notice the deepened scowl on the genius's forlorn mug. As if taking the silence as a cue, the door opened to reveal a balding old man, his posture able, sure. It was harder to say if L was more excited by the sight of his handler or the strawberry coffee cake in his grasp.

At that moment, L wanted nothing more than to run to his caretaker, tackle the man in a bear hug and scream into his leather jacket – dessert and the chained Yagami be damned.

But it passed.

There was a grin broad enough to put the Cheshire cat to shame on his lips, but the feeling passed. He would almost admit he regretted its departure.

Light chuckled in good-humor beside him, which L trusted as much as he would a wolf guarding sheep. At least he was returning to his 'old self.' The fleeting holiday, however, was enough to frighten the bejesus out of him – or into him as the case may be. He probably had the comfortingly familiar scent of cake and refined sugar to thank, and undoubtedly the person who remained in the adjacent room, attempting to complete the task assigned to him before sugar withdrawal sent him on another quest for his charge. L had hoped his assistant would be able to identify any patterns in the killings he might have missed. "Light-kun, what do you think about the investigation?"

His thumb hadn't moved from its place between his lips, which muffled the question but the detective was more concerned with directing his spoon through the fluffy heavenliness that was his cake. It needed more whip cream. The convenience of the bottle on the floor was too much.

"What is my percentage of being Kira?" L could feel the younger male's brown ('No they aren't… Crimson… Have I seen such eyes hateful before?') eyes boring into him while his suspect's tone lost any sense of lightheartedness.

Light Yagami was still well. Despite his superior's momentary lapse of sense, the teenager appeared unaffected. As long as there was that anchor of worry, the detective would be forced to out maneuver it, which was as comforting as his enemy could be.

"I believe questions normally invoke answers."

"Perhaps, just not yours, Ryuzaki." The faint trace of melancholy in the brunette's tone made L inwardly smirk, while he reflexively praised the one he could not help but loathe.

"I do not see what separated my questions from others."

"About 100 IQ points on the speaker's behalf."

"Hm… Perhaps seventy-five maybe…" Something other than his dessert had finally warranted the great detective's blank stare, which wasn't obscured by the tousled bangs hanging over his slate eyes. A little Light always brought out his juvenile side, but the cozy silence that should have befallen them was absent. It was as if both were preparing to stab the other. The smiles on their faces could have been painted. "And the determining opinion of my innocence as Kira."

Slowly their pretensions melted away, with L needing to catch himself before he completely slipped into hundreds upon thousands chaotically organized suspicions, analyzing even the young actor's breathing. Figurative battle armor it was, brought on by such an innocuous question. "If you truly aren't Kira, Light-kun, you have nothing to fear."

There was a healthy pause, both men refusing to move an inch in a seemingly childish game of statues. Their eyes seemed unable to leave each others' faces, their owners searching for the faintest hint of emotion in their 'opponent's' features and both failing horribly.

It was Light who broke the silence first, appearing to relax in his seat, even managing a laugh though he never looked away. "Of course, Ryuzaki. I have nothing to lose."

'Why do you still drop hints, Yagami-kun? You aren't protecting yourself just... baiting.' The silence was too long, the hesitant stares of worry, the added Red Herrings. There was more than the annoyance of an innocent prisoner behind the boy's gaze, and two percent was instantly added to a mental tally. 'You even humor me…'

"There is something we are missing before the… Finale if you will, Ryuzaki. All the roads are already pointing towards Yotsuba group, though which one of them is Kira is, as you know, the only thing that is hindering us. It is a mere technicality, however… Their methods… are keeping us from… Kira."

His insides were squirming with the lack of sustenance. Cake was food for thought, and allowed the swarthy-haired man to smile at his companion. "And in relation to the investigation of the first?"

"Perhaps this third Kira will lead us to the first." L did not appreciate the hesitation between the question and answer, but it was hard to not appreciate anything with strawberry cake in your mouth.

"What does Light-kun think?"

"I think I am the only one contributing to this conversation, Ryuzaki."

"We cannot have that now, can we?"

One of them had to blink eventually.

L could almost see the younger male fantasizing about stabbing him in the eye with the spoon in his mouth.

Light was mentally damning the speck of dust that drifted into his eye to Hell.

A smirk from the older detective was the equivalent of being pointed and laughed at. L secretly wished for a more violent reaction than his junior's resigned sigh.

"I think not, Ryuzaki. The targets of this Kira have a range too different from the first for them to be related in that sense. I do not think the first Kira would approve of these targets, making me wonder as to why the first Kira would have allowed his or her weapon to fall into another's hands. It is assumable, one of the Yotsuba group might have simply stumbled upon the… murder weapon."

"You do not think that the weapon could have been stolen from the first Kira?"

"Again, I suppose it is a possibility… But I doubt the Yotsuba group would have located Kira faster than we could, ey, Ryuzaki? What do you think?"

'What if the first Kira was simply killed, a sort of poetic justice in the form of karma, Yagami-kun? It is unlikely, but would you agree to that possibility? Could you consider _the_ Kira to be dead?' "We are indefinitely closer to discovering all the Kiras."

As Light arched an eyebrow, L could only wonder how long the teen took plucking them. Calculating physiological movements and the subject's meticulousness, it meant a long time. "Oh…? Is there some new evidence I have missed?"

"Nothing you haven't already seen." He didn't enjoy the glimmer of emotion behind his opponent's eyes, despite the somber look on the younger male's features. The detective hadn't entertained his cake in three full minutes. 'How much of yourself can you manipulate, Kira? Five percent more…'

"You will never find Kira, L."

The spoon in his hand nearly fell, the detective taken aback (or as taken aback as he could ever be) by the chill in his suspect's tone. The expression was as always, unreadable. The tension was almost as delicious as Watari's cake, which now lurched uncomfortably in a once calm stomach.

He loved it when Light spoke his name, the dawdled coo of 'Eru,' a contemptuous challenge hidden beneath disgusted respect. It always was.

The rest of the team chose that moment to return, true to their word, coffee in hand. Matsuda had a paper bag that L suddenly knew held a croissant.

"Not without any help, I mean."

He didn't care for Light's cover up, which they both knew was for the sake of anyone who bothered to listen. He was inclined to agree with the teen, though his pride conveniently squashed that wayward thought. The room was too noisy.

"I am more than you've left me, Light."


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Is anyone looking to sue one small-time fanfic member out of thousands

Disclaimer: Is anyone looking to sue one small-time fanfic member out of thousands?

Thien, you're too nice. really, thanks a lot! wow… i feel like a complete idiot now. O.o  
Tootsiepop254 thank you thank you thank you  
-spastic- -shot-  
by some miracle, i think my chapters are getting longer. :o still, i probably got a so much wrong with wammy and what-not so just bear with me. (or run and point and laugh?)

so yes… read and review please!

--

L contacted one of Wammy's current residents in the hours to come. Watari was not the only one with correspondents in the home, though it was assumable the owner of the orphanage had more interaction with those he wrote. The detective would readily admit he was not the most popular person in the orphanage – at least, not until he left. Until then, he was just another genius in the shade. Sometimes he would wonder if he should have made more connections when younger, seeing as almost every child that had lived in that house (great exception number one: Beyond Birthday) had managed to make something out of themselves that could be of use to the inspector. There was also the benefit of all of them being as capable in their chosen work as he was, or at least more capable than the average person.

Wammy's House never held average people.

"Basil, Ryuzaki?"

Looking up from his selection of doughnuts, a Bavarian cream positioned delicately between his thumb and index finger from an arm hanging at an odd angle above the man's head, the person in question glanced fleetingly at the monitor of his laptop, as if to check if he had mistyped an ingredient.

Only his eyes moved, and they were soon focused on the pastry that had left a coat of powdered sugar on L's lips. In a thick glob, the yellow cream began to drip out of the dough's opening, the entrance of which was still mashed together with teeth marks. A thin, pink tongue slipped out to meet the sweet liquid. Deliciously thick cream oozed out, coming in thin strands at first, then a blob all at once, sliding, slipping over L's parted lips, covering his messy entrance, and that tongue kept darting back and forth like a cobra, lapping up its pray. That sleek, moist tongue, twirling and tasting, _frenching_ the damn air…

Light should have looked emotionally scarred more often.

"Yes, basil…"

Out of the corner of his eyes, he watched the younger male twitch.

And again.

Somehow L doubted it was because of the odd ingredient. 'He scares too easily. I would have thought that one as intelligent as Yagami-kun would have been corrupted… repeatedly, but then… He has his standards.' "It adds a zest to the flavor."

"In strawberry cake." The brunette's tone was deadpan. The detective was inwardly smirking at how he had burned little Light's corneas.

"Do you cook, Light-kun?"

"Not particularly… I've never really tried." The flicker of supposed disinterest, faint dip of tone, the subtle turn of his normally offensive posture – sometimes L's suspect could speak so clearly he was yelling.

"You couldn't boil water."

"Shut up, Ryuzaki."

Then there were those 'no duhs.'

A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as L disposed of his doughnut, his other hand finishing the document on the screen. "Then Light-kun will not need to pry into my recipe."

Yes, the world's greatest detective(s) was sitting in a five star hotel, handcuffed to someone seven years his junior, his tongue doing ungodly things to a doughnut and typing a strawberry cheesecake recipe into a lap top filled with files about a seemingly omnipotent, unknown mass murderer. Bet your nights aren't that fun.

Back at Wammy's, despite his antisocial personality and the then-teen's general vibes of 'leave me the fuck alone unless you want your pride and intellect mocked to Hell,' the young man had found a group that had caught his interest. They had come across each other almost a decade ago, when little Miheal and Mail were pains in the brooding teenager's behind. Of course he didn't know their names yet.

Little Blondie had _dared_ to try and steal the genius's chocolate, and considering that he had just been dragged back to the orphanage that was not a good thing. Blondie ended up with a black eye. L walked away with a rabies shot and what looked like the world's worst hickie.

It was a small price to pay for not losing – even if his morals were somewhat against pushing around rabid, five-year old midgets (still, it wasn't L's fault, per say, that Miheal happened to crash into the fridge; it was a badly position refrigerator).

Either way, the redhead that had been laughing his head off at the scene grew up to be a chain smoker and computer expert, so much to the point that at the age of fourteen he was being sought after by some of the world's best known companies (Microsoft and Apple to name a few). L still considered him a late bloomer. But that did not stop him from planting a few requests here and there. The kid could be trusted, and that was worth a good percentage of his fortune.

At that moment, Mail was being sent a copy of an infamous cake recipe, laced with a request to infiltrate a number of government agencies and private home systems. Under the guise of an apparently single hotmail account, a system had been erected by the residents of Wammy's to keep private messages private. The messages themselves could be deciphered in a matter of days if somehow found and their true significance revealed, but the protection that surrounded it baffled even the system's creators. L did not even bother to try and explain it. He only knew how to use it, though did so sparingly, just to be safe.

He did not trust what was not entirely his.

The system could not even belong to anyone. The work of countless child protégés and successful unknowns, all somehow linked to the orphanages' founder, had come together to form something full proof that would expose the secrets of basil-ed cheesecake. Not one person could unravel it. The original creatures each only formed a fraction of the program, which was updated at a seemingly random, unknown schedule. L didn't really care, as long as the redhead got 'Infiltrate Yagami, Soichiro's personal network' from '3 cups of refined sugar.'

"I still do not see how the main ingredient in pesto can be used for something… sweet." The expression on his face made it obvious Light didn't like how saccharine he thought it to be.

L could only smirk at the obviously recalled hint of trivia. "You know nothing of the culinary arts; do you, Light-kun?"

"How could you tell, Ryuzaki?" The exasperated sigh, the supposedly defensive posture as his suspect crossed his arms over his chest and mock glared at his superior on the bed, it was all perfect. They had been at their little game all day. Back jibes and not-quite-snide comments tossing between them, like old _friends_. What bothered L was not the show they performed, but rather, how the brunette was always so willing to humor him. Light did not ride on jokes. Light did not agree to (purposely) idiotic suggestions – even if just to entertain their omnipresent audience. Light did not make considerate suggestions to his fellow prisoner. But most importantly, Light did not watch L.

The lines of cat and mouse had blurred so gracelessly that it was obvious that both roles were played at once. Now, L found himself being forced into the mouse's position, not because he was being trapped, but because he was being _let_. The perceptive teen seemed to be taking more time with observing his supposed prey. And as a result was less aware of his actions.

'Why has Yagami-kun decided on such a sacrifice?' The detective was readily insulted because of it.

Light thought he could be sloppy.

Innocence was never brought into the equation. Yet the whole situation redirected L's attention from everyone else.

"Your eyes, they moved upwards." It was the sign of a memory being retrieved from the dominant hemisphere of the human brain, which just happened to be the left. It was rather ironic how the mind worked backwards depending on perspectives. "You tensed, Light-kun, inadvertently, at the mention of cooking while you prepared to wave off a comment. A detached subject wouldn't have affected you so, and when you're to be praised… You smirk."

That guise of a smile L was so familiar with had slid on almost immediately. He could honestly say he welcomed the expression. It meant his suspect was listening.

His tone lightened noticeably while he plucked at a chocolate doughnut, choosing to eat the delicacy piece by piece rather than exert effort by taking bites. Crumbs fell on the bed. It was _Light's_ suggestion that they relax after all. There was no reason to not take out his suspicions on a guiltless duvet. "It's alright that you aren't good at everything, Light-kun. You aren't God."

The damn friendly casualness that had befallen them throughout the day should have died an explosively painful death. Ever since Light had spoken those utterly insulting words, the dark haired detective had been dealing with the urge to rip out his suspect's esophagus, the rage hidden beneath layers of carefully placed cloaks. The only comfort he took was from the knowing that the younger male experienced the same anger somewhere.

It was unfortunate that any direct questioning would lead him no where, seeing as the response would probably be an arousing speech on the importance of teamwork. Probably. The inspector did not know which would have been more aggravating: being fed more cheesy bullshit or having someone (read Matsuda) bawling over it. Everything about Light Yagami had been clouded from that day with his irritation, but an eye for an eye it was going to be.

"Of course, Ryuzaki." Light's laugh was clipped. L hoped he hadn't only hit a nerve, but plowed through an entire field of axioms. "I suppose I have my -"

"Just like Kira."

"Cooking skills to thank for that." The brunette looked genuinely startled – or slapped. The boy really had the funniest face. Nevertheless, his playfully feigned arrogance was cut short, and L was graced with the appearance of a half-hearted grin. With tangible exasperation, he added, "I suppose another fifteen percent of suspicion or so was added because Kira also happens to be a hopeless cook?"

"Oh? I believe Kira would make an exquisite chef. A visionary… possibly creative… very particular about his ingredients, but he's rather… incapable at handling his instruments." L paused, raising his to eye-level and gazing at his pale palm as if it held something. Slowly, his fingers curled into a fist, save for the middle and index. With peculiar slowness, he air-quoted himself. "No… His or her faults are elsewhere. But nothing everything will link you to Kira, Light-kun. Is it not possible for friends to speak of casual matters? Kira is just a criminal. We cannot let someone so mediocre control our time."

And L was the Queen of England.

L wasn't sure if he found determined stoicism or so-obviously-a-virgin as his favorite of his suspect's expressions.

"Though… the power of Kira – all of them so far – could have been something of a godsend. To kill without touching, is that not miraculous?"

'Is it because you promised revenge for your father that you are so concerned with the killer, Yagami-kun?' L merely nodded, accepting the question and apparently considering it while he chewed on a peppermint. "They are merely humans, wielding something beyond explanation. They are not gods themselves, and have already proved this… Necessary deaths, after all, haven't happened."

"What do you mean?"

"I am still alive." L's body tensed before the words properly left his lips. His companion's features had contorted, their forced nonchalance twisted into a smirk so revolting the detective almost unlocked their handcuffs. It was not the look of a proud fighter, awaiting a challenge, which so suited the teen while they worked on the case. Instead, he looked like a child pulling the wings of a butterfly.

"Oh yes, Ryuzaki, you _are_ alive."

'When do you plan to kill me, Yagami-kun?'

It was not a case of if.

"I want to thank you for today, L. It was the most fun I've had in ages."

He should have screamed.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

L Lawliet was a fat child. He was not endearingly chubby, nor plump and huggable, but fat, obese and round. Turned on his side, you would swear he could be bounced, and there was talk about giving the boy his own postal code. You couldn't help but squeeze those pudgy cheeks.

_But now his skin felt so foreign._

At three years of age, his mother was determined to force vegetables into her sugar-loving son, or something (that even partially) resembled a balanced died. If things hadn't happened as they did, L would probably have remained spherical, being forced to consume other food groups instead of his steady intake of sugar and confusing his body into dealing with the unnatural balance. There was a time when he wondered daily if such an exchange held its merits. Natural and abnormal could not walk hand-in-hand.

He was also sleeping ten hours a night.

_What a long time…_

The future world's greatest detective was still a victim to his nightly cravings, which was the reason he was tiptoeing past his parents' room, towards a locked door that led to the attic, his large body possessing more grace than any other child in first grade. A selection of sweets to put Willy Wonka to shame awaited him.

Soon, from directly above his parents' bed, separated by only the floor, L could hear his mother creeping out of bed, presumably to check if her son had been indulging again.

Antoinette Solange meant well, as did her husband Murgatroyd Lawliet, but that was no reason for their son to obey them.

'She'll go to my room first, find the bed empty and hurry to the tree house.' He had purposely allowed himself to be seen, transferring a meager portion of his treasury to his wooden sanctuary. His parents had predictably remained silent about what they saw. 'That gives me five to ten minutes before she heads back… She won't run. When she checks again and finds me asleep, she'll just assume she was dreaming. The evidence would be stacked against her. Hm… Four minutes.'

Once, the most difficult case he had was smuggling an apple tart past a loving mother and loosening a few boards to seal the deal. He was a long way off from having his word become law.

_I can hear the lecture already, the smell of her perfume…To strong vanilla… Getting ready for work and decided to yank off the covers…_

His eyes were still dry, filled with the view of the full moon outside a dusty window. He stopped watching the moon before he reached Wammy's. The too sweet caramel roamed over his tongue, tingling sensitive taste buds, mixing with the chocolate in a delicate balance of sweet swirls.

_You can't forget perfection._

He didn't notice a pair of red eyes on the other side of the attic.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

The light wasn't unforgiving as before, rather a dim, green hue that outlined his form. A bright spotlight contrasted with the shine from far away, dancing before his eyes while a hum filled his ears. It was muffled. Everything was muffled. The seat was uncomfortable, hands clutching a foreign object too tightly. Nothing could be heard.

'What the…' "HELICOPTER!?"

Bang.

--

so… who's going 'what the fuck?!'  
:3  
urhm… zomg bottom comments!

Really, you don't even have to read to review…


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